


A Rainy Evening

by Ms_Starlight



Category: Dark Angel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-06 03:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Starlight/pseuds/Ms_Starlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan tries to deal with the fact that he'll never walk again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rainy Evening

**Author's Note:**

> Not quite a tag to, but inspired by "411 on the DL" (season 1, episode 5). Written in Dec. 2000.

The world outside of Logan Cale’s penthouse window was cold and wet. The endless Seattle rain pounded against the glass in perfect accompaniment to the dismalness filling his heart. To the outside world, he was a man filled with hope. He never let anyone down and he always did what was right. The man inside, however, had his doubts.

 

He peered down at his now immobile lower half and wondered, not for the first time, if it was worth it to continue on.

 

While he had devoted his life to helping other people, to finding justice and reason in an unreasonably cruel world, he got few pats on the back for his work. All the credit for that went to another man, an imaginary man, the symbol of his quest – Eyes Only. But it wasn’t supposed to be about credit or accolades. No. Logan’s work was all about the greater good and improving the world for everyone, not about a selfish need for gratification. Still, he hungered to see the real worth of his sacrifices.

 

His blue eyes narrowed as he looked out the window into the driving rain.

 

When had things begun to change?

 

Was it just the accident that had him questioning his scruples?

 

Sighing, Logan pushed away from the window, his arms aching from navigating his home in a wheelchair. He’d always been in shape. He’d always been able to look in the mirror and see a tall, well built man staring back. Things were certainly different now. He hadn’t gone so far as to cover his mirrors, but he was weary of seeing himself as a broken man.

 

Now he faced the question of his very purpose. What was he doing? Could he really change the world by pulling people up out of oppression by their shirttails? It spread like a disease and the few he saved usually buckled under it again in the end. Perhaps he was only prolonging the inevitable. He hadn’t changed anything with all his sweat and blood, and his hope was faltering.

 

The rain pounded harder against the window, a steady drumming that filled his ears and fed his sadness.

 

He wheeled himself into his office. His computer was on, a low electric buzz rising from it. How many hours had he sat in that chair, he wondered, delving into the lives of people who would never know who he was?

 

He felt tapped out. He’d given away so much and received so little in return. He talked about how knowing he was doing good was enough to fill the void that caring so much created; but in truth, it wasn’t.

 

He removed his glasses for a moment and rested his forehead against the palm of his hand. He wasn’t sure if he had enough hope in him for the entire world. He didn’t even think he had enough for himself.

 

“Hey, Logan.” Max came into the room, her movements sleek and feral and silent. Her brown eyes skirted over the masked depression in his own – she was the sort of woman who could walk into a room and plot its every tactical weakness in seconds, but matters of the heart seemed lost on her.

 

She sat down on the couch and looked at him expectantly. Logan was never at a loss for an intelligent or witty remark, but the sound of the driving rain had filled his head and, for once, he had nothing to say.

 

“Dinner?” she finally prompted him.

 

“Not tonight, Max,” he replied.

 

“Not tonight?” she repeated. Her gaze narrowed with suspicion. He avoided eye contact with her, not wanting to share his dark feelings. Then she stood up, a vision of loveliness, and walked over to him.

 

“Logan? Are you okay?” she asked. He met her eyes then. What he saw then made him pause: concern and a kind of affection that she was attempting to hide. She was a soldier, a woman who wasn’t supposed to care for anyone. But somehow that had changed, too. Somehow…she _cared_ about him.

 

She took a step back, as if sensing that he’d discovered her secret. But his heart had already begun to fill. This was it. Hope. It wasn’t within him or any sort of recognition. It wasn’t in changing the whole world. It was in this one woman finally feeling her humanity, growing her angel wings as he taught her to fly.

 

As she walked away, firing off a smart remark, the rain started to let up and he thought maybe he was doing the right thing after all.


End file.
